


The Darkness I Know So Well (Too Well)

by Avengerz (orphan_account)



Series: The Beauty of the Darkness [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Author is enjoying tags far too much, Bondage, Child Abuse, M/M, Murder, Omega Verse, Omegas are basically slaves, People being property, Possesiveness, Proceed with caution, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Really dark, Rebellion, Slavery, Torture, Underage - Freeform, dark!fic, domestic abuse, dub-con, omega!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Avengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is an Omega in a world where that makes him little more than a slave. And Obadiah Stane is his owner.</p><p>This was never going to end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Children Are Sad, But Some Get Over It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LePeru (Nizah)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nizah/gifts).



> **WARNING: this fic is finished, in a sense, and there is a second installment in this verse, but I've pretty much abandoned this series for the time being. Feel free to read, as it can still be enjoyed, but there is no conclusive ending.**
> 
> Written for this prompt on Avengerkink:  
> http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/15292.html?thread=32414396
> 
> This is going to be _really dark_ so proceed with caution.
> 
> This work is un-beta'd, so any and all mistakes are my own. If you could point out any mistakes that I might have, I'd be much obliged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "A Sad Child" by Margaret Atwood
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man, Avengers, Marvel, or anything affiliated with it. This story was written purely for fan enjoyment, and not monetary purposes.

“Tony!” The cry echoes through the dark, lonely house, and Tony’s head jerks up. Hurriedly, he slams shut the book he had been reading, and rolls off the bed he had been reading on. Kneeling on the ground,, he lifts the mattress from the bedframe and slides the book underneath. Tony lets the mattress fall to cover it just as he hears footsteps reach the top of the stairs. 

He jumps to his feet and is walking towards the door when it opens with enough force to slam into the opposite wall.

“There you are, boy.” Howard Stark looks down at his fifteen-year-old son with a faint sneer on his features.

Tony looks down at the ground, knowing better than to meet his Alpha father’s gaze.

“You are to come when I call you, is that understood?” Howard snaps as he reaches out to grab Tony’s chin in a vicious grip, tilting it upwards.

Tony winces at the painful grip, then nods as well as he can. Howard’s eyes narrow for a second, then he abruptly drops his hand, releasing Tony’s chin, and looks around the room. Tony returns his gaze to the floor, which is why he is taken by surprise when Howard suddenly raises his hand and brings it down in a vicious slap.

Tony rocks backward from the force of the blow, only just managing to remain on his feet, as Howard snarls, _"Is that understood?!"_

"Yes." Tony replies quickly, then cringes at his mistake, even as Howard brings up his hand for another slap. Tony falls to the ground this time, on his hands and knees.

"Yes, **sir.** " Howard growls.

"Yes, sir." Tony corrects himself quietly, remaining on the floor with his eyes downcast.

Howard continues to look around the bedroom, which contains only the barest minimums- a bed, chest of drawers, and a side-table, along with a door leading to a small bathroom. Tony has to force himself not to look over at the bed, knowing that Howard would become suspicious. The last thing Tony needs is for Howard to find the books he had hidden under the mattress. The punishment he would receive for having learned to read, not to mention stealing his father’s books, would make any other beating Tony had received look gentle.

Finally, Howard completes his examination of the room, and looks down at Tony contemptuously.

"Come along, then." He says as he turns and leaves the room.

Tony scrambles to his feet and hurries out the door after Howard.

Howard doesn't even glance back as he starts down the stairs, but that's no surprise. In fact, Tony would have been surprised if he had acknowledged Tony's presence. After all, one does not acknowledge _objects._

Tony is careful to stay three steps behind his father, as is expected of any Omega, but doesn't fall too far back, as that would infuriate Howard.

Howard reaches the end of the stairs and turns down a corriddor. His shoes clack against polished wood floors as he passes dull oil prints and locked wooden doors.

Tony follows, still three feet back with his eyes downcast. He looks up in surprise, however, when Howard addresses him.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” Howard says, without turning.

Howard often has visitors, because of his work, but only rarely has Tony met them. And then, usually, it’s by accident. They go into the wrong room, or they bump into Tony on one of his excursions to the kitchen for food or to the West Wing to visit with the other Omegas that Howard owns. The punishments for such accidents had been severe. Howard didn’t want his son’s Omega status broadcasted, not unless it served a purpose, that is.

Tony begins to get nervous as he wonders what reason Howard has to introduce him to his visitors.

So lost in his thoughts is he that Tony barely realizes that Howard had continued.

“… business partner. Or rather, potential business partner.” Howard is saying when Tony returns his attention to the man, as well as his gaze to the floor. “That’s where you come in.”

Oh. Okay. That makes more sense. It is not uncommon for the marrying off of an Omega to be part of a business deal. In fact, it is very common.  
This knowledge does nothing to ease Tony’s worry. If anything, he becomes even more nervous.

Is this it, then?

He had only turned 15 a week ago, and his mating cycle would begin any day now. This was usually when Omegas were ‘married’ to the Alphas they would belong to for the rest of their lives.

Tony knew this, and he had realized, distantly, that Howard was probably finding an Alpha for him, but the actual event was something else entirely.

 _‘I wonder what they’re like?'_ Tony thinks nervously. _‘Are they young? Old? Male? Female? Male is more likely, but who knows? How will they act? How will they treat me?’_

Before Tony has too long to freak out about what his new Alpha would be like, Howard comes to a stop in front of a door that Tony knows leads to the living room. Howard turns to face Tony, his expression deadly serious. “If you make me look like an idiot, I will make you regret the day you were born.” He hisses, before whirling around and opening the door. Howard strides in, and Tony follows.

He follows a ways back from Howard, trying to catch a glimpse of the man sitting in the armchair without taking his gaze away from the floor. The man stands up to shake Howard’s hand, so all that Tony can see is very expensive-looking shoes.

Howard sits down on the other armchair, and Tony comes to stand behind and a little to the right of the chair.

“Mr. Stane!” Howard says, and Tony recognizes the faux cheerfulness of his tone.

“Please, please, call me Obadiah.” The man replies in a deep voice, and now Tony has a name.

Obadiah Stane.

If only he had a face to match it with.

“This is my son, an Omega, as you can tell.” Tony resists the urge to look up as Howard draws attention to him.

“So I see. May I examine him?”

Tony bristles inwardly at the indifferent tone and contemptuous words, but remains outwardly calm as Howard gives his assent.

Tony steps the few feet forward to the side of the chair that Stane is sitting in and kneels next to it, all while keeping his eyes downcast. A big hand grasps his chin, and he looks up.

The man has cropped brown hair, thick eyebrows and intelligent eyes. Tony looks him over just as he looks over Tony. It’s hard to tell when he’s sitting down, but Tony thinks that Obadiah would be tall, taller than Howard and way taller than him.

Stane's eyes flick over his face, before coming to rest on Tony's eyes. Tony gazes back evenly, making sure that now emotion shows in his features. Whatever Obadiah sees, he must like, because a grin breaks out over his face.

"He will do. I'll take him." Stane turns back to face Howard, releasing Tony, and Tony looks down again.

He studies the polished wood below him and thinks furiously as the men above him talk business. 

_'Do I like him?"_ He wonders, but can't answer his own question. _'Time will tell, I guess. He's older than I expected, though.'_

His thoughts are interrupted when the two men stand up to shake hands again. Both are grinning, and Tony knows that both of them think they got the better deal. 

_'Howard finally gets to get rid of me.'_ He thinks bitterly. _'Of course he'd be happy. And Stane gets an Omega._

"Come along, boy." Obadiah instructs, and Tony stands. His knees are sore from kneeling for so long, but he doesn't complain.

Stane begins walking towards the door, and Tony hesitates. _'We're leaving already?'_ He thinks, a bit alarmed. _'But what about all my stuff? And I want to say goodbye to Alex and Jarvis and Maria...'_

Stane, noticing that Tony is not following, turns to face the two Starks. "Well?" He asks impatiently. "I said to **come** , boy!"

"B-but what about my stuff?" Tony stammers nervously.

Obadiah rolls his eyes and turns to look at Howard.

"Jarvis packed all your things already. They're by the front door." Howard replies gruffly, without turning to look at his son.

Obadiah nods, then turns and starts walking towards the door. Again, Tony doesn't follow.

Stane whirls around with a growl to glare at Tony. Tony glances over at Howard, and Obadiah switches his glare to Howard.

"I thought you trained your son to follow orders." He snaps.

Howard, looking very embarrassed, turns to glare at Tony. "Go with your new Alpha, boy." He hisses.

"Um... I wanted to say good-bye to a few people?" Tony says hesitantly.

"Who?" Howard snaps impatiently, and when Tony looks uncertain, he rolls his eyes. "I'll pass on your farewells. Now, who?"

"Maria." Tony names his mother, the Beta who had a child, despite most Betas being unfertile, "And Jarvis," - Edwin Jarvis, the Stark families butler, a Beta who also watched over Howard's other Omegas-"And Alex." - Alex Johnson, the youngest of the Omegas, is two years older than Tony, and Tony views him as the older brother he never had.

"Fine, fine, I'll tell them." Howard says impatiently, and Tony turns to face Stane.

"Come." Obadiah says for the final time, then turns and walks away.

This time, Tony follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort of random place to end a chapter, I know, but I thought it ended well there.
> 
> Feedback is very much appreciated! 


	2. Everything's Moving With No Place To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Falling From Darkness" by Anne Powers 

Obadiah glanced into the rear view mirror to see the boy currently slouched in his back seat and pondered over his latest... acquisition. He was young, and awkward in his adolescence, but Obadiah had always had a weakness for brunettes. Those gorgeous brown eyes didn't hurt things either.

Not that Obadiah would ever tell the boy! No, of course not. Omegas were little better than furniture, things to be used and dispensed with. In Obadiah's opinion, it's just evolution's idea of a joke to have even created omegas in the first place. 

Weak, pacifistic, stupid. Omegas are useless.

Obadiah's thoughts are interrupted as his driver pulls into the long driveway that leads down to his house. 

The Malibu mansion, situated on a cliff with a breathtaking view, had been quite the find. It would also prove useful, since Howard Stark's primary residence is only a few miles away.

And now that he was the man's business partner...

Obadiah allowed a quick, ruthless grin to cross over his features. Oh, Stark had no idea who he was dealing with.

The driver, Obadiah had never bothered to learn his name, pulled to a stop in front of the house, and Obadiah opened the door before the man had a chance to get out and do it for him. 

In the back seat, there is a click as the boy undoes his seat belt and steps out. The driver had opened the trunk, and the boy went to the back of the car to collect his solitary suitcase.

Obadiah began walking up the walkway to the front door, and, after a pause, he could hear the wheels from the suitcase rolling over the pavement, indicating that the boy was following.

The door was opened mere seconds after he knocked, and he allowed himself a brief moment of pride that his staff was so well trained. They must have known of his return and prepared for it.

The maid that had opened the door did a slight curtsy and moved out of the way so that Obadiah could walk in, followed by the boy. The maid examined the boy in obvious curiosity, and he, in turn, looked around the house, his brown eyes wide as he took in the gleaming steel and polished white marble that the house was mostly constructed from.

Obadiah vaguely felt as if he should be annoyed by the boy's open expression, but mainly he just felt proud and smug at the slight bit of awe in the boy's gaze. Howard Stark's son-Omega status notwithstanding-was amazed at something Obadiah owned. That was something to be proud of, he justified to himself.

Shaking his head, Obadiah snapped himself out of his thoughts and moved further into the house. He worked on the knot of his tie as he glanced around.

"Girl!" He called out, his cry echoing through the hallways. "Girl, come!"

There was the sound of a door opening and closing down one hallway, then a slight, brown-haired woman, aged about 25, came scurrying down the hall. She dropped into a deep curtsy in front of Obadiah, holding out her threadbare dress.

"Welcome home, Master." She said quietly, her eyes on the floor.

"Don't speak unless I tell you to!" He snaps, and when she nods, he turns to face the boy, who was staring at the young woman.

"Boy, this is..." He struggled with her name for a few moments before remembering it. "Sarah. She is my other Omega. She will teach you what you need to know to be my Omega. She will be in charge of making sure you have food. In short, she will be in charge of you."

Sarah glances up at the boy, running her eyes over him in a quick assessment, just as the boy is doing to her. She must like what she sees, because she gives a short nod before dropping her gaze to the floor again.

"Good." Obadiah claps his hands together. "That's that. We have other things to do first, boy - Sarah can give you the tour later."

It's a clear dismissal, and Sarah curtsies again before turning and disappearing back the way she came.

Obadiah turns to look at the boy and finds him gazing back evenly. He raises an eyebrow, expecting the eyes to drop, but the boy continues to unrepentantly stare back, matching Obadiah gaze for gaze. His other eyebrow drifts upwards to reach it's partner, then Obadiah mentally shrugs and turns away. He'd deal with the boy's insubordination later. First, it was time to evaluate how valuable the Omega he had gotten from Stark was.

Obadiah turns down a hallway, an unspoken command prompting the boy to follow him after a moment's hesitation. They pass several doorways before Obadiah pauses in front of door. "These will be your quarters." He says once the boy has caught up. "Leave your bag here."Then he turns and continues down the hallway, not giving the boy any time to explore his new room. There is a pause, then the sounds of the boy's footsteps follow him, no longer accompanied by the grating sound of the suitcase.

Obadiah continues on to the end of the hall and stops in front of a door there. He stops and waits for the boy to catch up to him before opening the door and holding it open for the boy to go through.

When the boy hesitates, glancing uncertainly into the room, Obadiah sighs in frustration. "Go in." He says sharply.

The boy hesitates only a second more, scanning Obadiah's face nervously, before stepping inside. Obadiah follows, closing the door behind them both.

He discovers that the boy is only a few steps inside, obviously trying to adjust to the dark room, lit only by the crack of light from under the door.

Obadiah slips past the boy and, with the ease of long experience, makes his way to the bedside table and flips on the lamp there.

The boy blinks owlishly in the sudden light, though dim, and looks around the room. It's rather bare for such a huge room, containing a huge king bed, an equally large wooden wardrobe, the bedside table, and a bookcase, full of books, that takes up all of one wall - opposite the wall of windows, which have their shades drawn. Obadiah observes with interest the way the boy's eyes linger slightly too long on the bookcase, but doesn't comment.

Instead, Obadiah sits down on the bed and examines the boy. The boy holds his gaze for an impressive two minutes before he drops his gaze. He shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable under Obadiah's scrutiny. "What?!" He finally bursts out with.

"You will address me as "Sir" or "Master" at all times." Obadiah says coolly.

The boy glances up at him, fire flashing from his eyes. "Fine. What, _sir_?" He asks sarcastically.

Obadiah does not get mad, which had perhaps been the boy's intention. Instead, he grins with exasperation and amusement, shaking his head slightly. "Strip." He says, just as coolly.

"What?" The boy matches his gaze again, confusion clear on his features. "Sir." He adds belatedly.

"You heard me." Obadiah says without inflection. "Strip. Take off your clothes."

The boy meets Obadiah's gaze, incredulousness and defiance in his eyes. Obadiah stares him down, until finally the boy breaks underneath the weight of Obadiah's stare. Obadiah allows himself a quick, smug grin as the boy looks down and slowly begins to undress.

When he is down to his boxers, the boy hesitates and glances up at Obadiah. At his nod, the boy strips those off to. 

The boy looks down, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as Obadiah looks him over. Obadiah smiles, liking what he sees.

The boy is young still, with the skinniness and gangly limbs of adolescence, but he's old enough that Obadiah can see how muscle will fill him out, how the hair the boy currently sports will thicken out and darken to the color of his hair. Young he might be, but there is a certain symmetry to the child, and his large brown eyes only serve to make him seem more beautiful.

Obadiah nearly starts in surprise as he thinks the word. Beautiful? How could this awkward youth be beautiful? But, he admits to himself as he looks over at the tousled hair on the boy's downcast head, it's true. 

Satisfied with his examination, Obadiah stands up. "Get on to the bed." He orders, his tone leaving no room for argument. After a split-second of hesitation, the boy shuffles forward to the edge of the bed.

Obadiah turns to the bedside table and reaches into a drawer. He pulls out a box of condoms and sets them on the surface of the table, then turns to find the boy kneeling in the center of the bed, staring at the condoms with no small bit of surprise.

Remembering many Alpha's habit to bareback their Omegas, Obadiah explains, "I don't want children."

When the boy nods, Obadiah turns back to the drawer. He pulls out something that flashes in the lamplight, and the boy's eyes widen as he realizes what it is-handcuffs.

A flash of fear crosses his features, before he obviously makes an effort to school his expression. Still, the boy can't quite keep his nervousness from showing on his face.

Obadiah takes a brief moment to appreciate how expressive the boy's features are as he undoes the fly of his slacks. That will make the experience to come _so_ much more enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please comment, kudos, bookmark, whatever. The more support I get, the faster I write!


	3. And Now Good-Morrow To Our Waking Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title chapter from "The Good-Morrow" by John Donne

Tony moans as blindingly bright sunlight suddenly pierces his eyes. He rolls over and pulls the covers up to cover his head, and hears a low chuckle. That quickly stops his attempts to go back to sleep.

No one is ever in his room, much less when he wakes up. Not unless he is in trouble, that is.

Swallowing around a suddenly dry throat, Tony slowly pulls off the covers and slowly opens his eyes..

Blinking into the light that is still too bright, Tony peers around the room and sees a figure highlighted by sunlight standing next to the now-uncovered wall of windows. 

Wait.

Wall of windows?

Tony jerks upright and looks around the room with increasing confusion. This isn't his bedroom. Where is he? What's going on?

A gasp escapes his lips before he can stop it as a bright pain shoots through his backside.

"Easy." A low voice says, and Tony realizes it's coming from the figure by the windows. "You'll be a bit sore. It was your first time, after all."

The voice sounds amused, and familiar.

Obadiah walks up to the edge of the bed, and raises an eyebrow, looking down at Tony, who is unsuccessfully attempting to ignore both the sunlight and hi- the Alpha and go back to sleep.

"Get up." Obadiah says eventually, and Tony merely grunts and rolls over. Obadiah could be the Queen of England for all Tony cares, but he is not getting out of bed before noon.

"Come on, boy. Get up."

Obadiah's tone is filled with far too much amusement for Tony's preferences, so he yanks back the covers from his face to glare childishly at the man.

"Hmmm. Not really a morning person, are you?"

Before Tony can respond, Obadiah grabs the sheets from Tony's hands and yanks them backwards to the foot of the bed.

Tony gasps in surprise, then proceeds to promptly curl up in a ball, still stubbornly trying to go back to sleep.

Above him, Obadiah tuts. "Now, that won't do at all."

Tony ignores, him, and, after a few more moments, Obadiah walks away. Tony sighs in relief and his eyes drift shut once more. 

Only to fly open with a strangled cry when water is suddenly dumped over his head. 

Tony thrashes in the now-conflicting sheets, and ends up on the floor in his attempts to avoid the water.

Above him, there is a chuckle, then his wrist is caught in a vice-like grip and Tony is pulled to his feet in front of Obadiah.

Shaking wet hair out of his eyes, Tony is just in time to see Obadiah's expression of amusement morph into furious anger.

Obadiah gives his captured wrist a hard shake, and Tony rocks backwards a bit.

"You do what I say, when I say it, got that, Omega?" He hisses the ranking like it is distasteful. To him, it probably is, Tony reminds himself. "When I say jump, you ask how high, when I say dance, you ask to which song. I _own_ you, you ungrateful child. I am the sole source of anything you might need, including food and water, so you will do **what I say, _when I say it!_** "

Tony merely gazes mildly back at Obadiah, unimpressed. Is this it? Tony had gotten worse lectures from the family butler, Jarvis, for doing something stupid, and Jarvis _liked_ Tony. 

If Obadiah intends to scare him into obedience, it isn't-

The blow comes out of nowhere, surprising Tony enough that he falls to his knees. He brings a hand up to ouch his stinging face, but his hand is caught before he can.

Obadiah's other hand comes up to grip the hair at the back of Tony's neck, and his head is yanked back uncomfortably far, so that he can see Obadiah's face.

"Hmm..." Obadiah muses thoughtfully, ignoring the death glare Tony sends his way. "Obviously last night wasn't enough. I can see you're going to be harder to break. No respect for authority, I see. Howard truly is incompetent."

Tony narrows his eyes up at Obadiah, because even if the guy does hate his only child, Howard is still Tony's father.

Noticing Tony's glower, Obadiah smirks. "Come along, boy." 

He turns and begins walking to the door, and with his hand still on the back of Tony's neck, Tony has no choice but to follow.

He tries to squirm away when they reach the hallway, unnerved by Obadiah's foreboding words, but even as he yanks his hand free, the hand around his throat tightens to the point of pain, a thumb diggig into his Adam's apple, and he ceases struggling with a gasp.

Obadiah all but drags Tony down the hallway to a rather enacing black door Tony begins thrashing again as Obadiah pushes the door open. 

Obadiah looks in for a few moments, then nods. "Yes, this should do nicely..." He appears to be talking to himself. "And if not, there are always more... drastic ways."

The room is completely dark save for the light coming in through the open door revealing several boxes and the corner of a metal cot.

Obadiah pushes him forward, and, taken by surprise at the sudden lack of pressure at his neck, Tony stumbles forward, falling to his knees just inside the doorway.

He looks up as a shadow crosses him, and he sees Obadiah standing in the doorway

"When this door is closed, this room is completely dark. No light can get in. I've found darkness to be quite an effective strategy in subduing unruly or rebellious Omegas."

Tony shivers, not only at the words, but the emotionlessness with which Obadiah speaks them, but tries to cover it by glaring up at Obadiah.

"There is food and water in the boxes, which you should be able to locate and eat in complete darkness. I've also kindly given you a bed."

Tony looks around at the boxes around him and the metal cot with its thing mattress.

When he looks back, Obadiah looks thoughtful. 

"It took Sarah only a day and a half in this room to change her ways, but you're stubborn, you'll need longer... I think a week ought to be enough."

"W-wait a second." Tony says, sudden fear making him stumble over his words. "You're just going to... to _leave_ me here, alone? In the dark? For a **_week?_** "

Obadiah smiles, but it is a smile without humor, transforming his emotionless mask into a demon's grimace. "That's about it Hopefully this will teach you some respect. Have fun!"

With that final, cheery sentence and a sardonic grin and wave goodbye, Obadiah leaves. The door closes behind him, completely blocking off the light.

Tony is left alone, with only the all-encompassing darkness for company.

w

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few points of order before I'm done.
> 
> 1\. Yes, I realize this was a rather short chapter, but I couldn't resist the cliffhanger. *cackles*
> 
> 2\. Thank you all so much for all the lovely support. You all are fantastic!
> 
> 3\. Following up on that, more support is always appreciated. Especially comments. I love comments.
> 
> Until next time!


	4. Interlude 1: Jarvis

Edwin Jarvis sighs in relief as he places the last dish into the cabinet. The cook had taken the week off to visit her daughter, who is getting married, and Jarvis had taken over her responsibilities. 

It's a good thing cooking is easy as long as you have the recipes, he muses to himself as he shuts the cabinet door. Still, the addition of the cooking and cleaning of the kitchen had only added to Jarvis's workload, and although the butler would never complain, it's taking a tole.

Jarvis glances at the clock on the wall to affirm what he already knows and heaves another sigh. It is late, very late. And he has to get up early the next morning to prepare the house for Mistress's old sorority group, which is meeting for tea.

"I'm getting too old for this." He mutters under his breath as he climbs the stairs, headed for his room. 

Jarvis reaches the second floor and starts down the main hallway, passing adjacent hallways as he does so. In front of one hallway, though, he pauses, head cocked to the side as he tries to discern what the sound was that had made him stop.

Finally, he recognizes the sound as muffled sobs and Jarvis's face softens. He turns down the hallway, towards the room he instinctively knows the noises are coming from - Master Anthony's bedroom.

Jarvis stops in front of the door, and the sobs coming from the room abruptly cut off. Jarvis sighs, closing his eyes for a second as he mentally prepares himself for what he knows is to come, then opens the door with a slight creak.

He catches the tail end of motion as the huddled figure on the bed yanks the covers up, then goes still. Jarvis pads a few steps into the room, then halts, watching the stiff figure on the bed as it attempts to feign sleep.

"Anthony?" He calls out quietly, and there is a sniffing sound, loud in the otherwise silent room, before the boy on the bed turns to face Jarvis. Tear streaks paint his baby-ish features, and Jarvis feels his heart give a lurch.

"What's the matter, Anthony?" He keeps his voice as gentle as possible as he slowly makes his way farther into the room.

"Just a nigh'mare. That's all." Anthony's voice is slightly slurred with the last dredges of sleep and the inmaneuverability of a six-year-old mouth.

Jarvis sits down on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on Anthony's ankle, and the boy turns to face him.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Jarvis asks softly, even though he can guess as to what prompted this most recent nightmare.

Anthony hesitates, looking down. Jarvis feels a pang, knowing that Anthony knows he isn't supposed to complain about his Alpha, and Howard was surely the cause of this dream.

"You can tell me." He assures Anthony quietly, and it's the truth. Even if Jarvis wasn't quite fond of the boy, he wouldn't tell Howard, simply because Jarvis was not going to provide the man with another excuse to punish Anthony.

"Howard." Anthony finally bursts out with, and Jarvis nearly sighs again. Even though he had known that was the case, he hadn't necessarily wanted his suspicions proved correctly. The boy's father torments him enough during his waking hours, Anthony shouldn't have to be subjected to that while he was asleep, as well. Anthony looks down, avoiding Jarvis's gaze. "Why does he hate me so much?" Tears begin to trickle down Anthony's cheeks, and he swipes at them clumsily with the back of his hand.

"Oh, Anthony..." Jarvis says, the words sounding more like a sigh. He raises his hand, hesitates for a spit second, then rests it on Anthony's bowed head. Anthony looks up, and the lingering tears in his eyes, combined with the slight, confused frown on his face, nearly breaks Jarvis's heart.

"Tony, you aren't going to live like most little boys, you've realized that by now, right?" Jarvis says as gently as he can.

To anyone else, six years old might seem like to young for what Jarvis is about to say, but although Howard won't admit it, Anthony is far smarter than most children his age, far smarter than anyone would ever give him credit for, being an Omega as he is.

Anthony makes a muffled noise that Jarvis suspects might be a choked-back sob as he nods. "Sometimes, through the window, I can see the kids from across the street outside playing soccer, but when I ask, I can't go outside, unless Howard or Maria or you come with me." There's a pause, where Anthony sniffs again, before he continues, "So, yeah, I know."

"You're a smart boy." Jarvis says, half praise, half gloomy despair. In Anthony's still-watery eyes, Jarvis sees a burst of pride.

Jarvis pauses for a moment, trying to decide how best to go about the following conversation. "Anthony, you have to understand, your father doesn't hate you." He says at last.

"Yes he does!" Anthony bursts out again, his childish face alight. "He ignores me all the time, and when he talks about me, he just says 'boy' or 'it'. He won't even say my name!"

"Anthony..." Jarvis sighs, yet again, and looks down at the bed, choosing his words with care.

"Anthony, you know of Orientations, right?" He says, changing course slightly.

"Of course." Anthony scoffs. "Everyone knows about that. Alex told me about it - Alpha, Betas, and Omegas, right?"

"Yes, that's right. Very good." Jarvis says, and there is another flash of pride in Anthony's eyes for getting it right. "I'm a Beta, Howard is an Alpha, and you...Anthony, do you know what you are?"

Anthony frowns, a troubled look on his face. "I... I've never really thought about it before..."

"Anthony... You're an Omega." Jarvis says, as gently as he can.

A horrified panic spreads across Anthony's features. "But... no, that's not right... Howard says that Omegas can't think, that they're barely more than animals, and I can think, so that's not right, Jarvis, you must be wrong, I can't be an Omega!"

Anthony is babbling, and practically hyperventilating by the time he finishes. Jarvis puts his hands on Anthony's slim shoulders, and he stills, searching Jarvis's face with anxious eyes.

"No, Jarvis, you're wrong." He says at last, quietly. "You have to be."

"I'm sorry, Anthony." Jarvis says, because, really, what else is there to say? Being born an Omega is being born into a live of servitude and stupidness, and Anthony knows that, knows the fate he is destined for. As it is, Anthony is lucky that Howard has mostly ignored him, allowing the boy to at least spend the first few years of his life in a semblance of normality. 

Anthony would have found out soon enough, Jarvis reminds himself as he looks away from the utter heartbreak on Anthony's features.

"But... does that mean that I won't be able to go to school?" Anthony asks, barely more than a whisper.

Jarvis hesitates, then nods. "I'm afraid so." He says gravely.

"Oh." Anthony sighs, and Jarvis mentally cringes. He had known, even though Anthony hadn't ever said so, that the boy had been eagerly awaiting the time when he would be old enough to go to school and learn. In fact, if he weren't an Omega, he would be heading off to first grade this very year.

Jarvis sighs, and knows that he is going to regret what he is about to do. "Anthony.... just because you're not going to school doesn't mean you can't learn." He says slowly, hesitantly.

Anthony looks up at that, his features, streaked with fresh tears, crumpling into a confused frown. "What?" He asks.

"Well, I.... could teach you." Jarvis says, resigning himself to his fate.

The confused expression lasts a moment longer, than Anthony's features light up with hope. It lasts only a second, though, before transforming into doubt.

"But... I thought that you're not supposed to teach Omegas." Anthony says hesitantly.

"It is." Jarvis nods.

"But you could get in trouble! Howard would fire you!" Anthony says, suddenly looking worried. "I don't want you to lose your job, Jarvis."

"Well," Jarvis says matter-of-factly. "We'll just have to be sure not to get caught then, won't we?"

The doubt and worry melts from Anthony's face, replaced by a blinding smile. "Yeah!" He says happily.

And that, for Jarvis, makes any following consequences completely and utterly worth it.

"Wait here." Jarvis stands from the bed and walks toward the door. "I'll be right back." He assures Anthony.

Sure enough, Jarvis returns within moments, carrying with him a stack of children's books. They had been among the gifts to the Stark family at the baby shower, before anyone had known Anthony's orientation, and Jarvis had never gotten around to throwing them out, instead leaving them in the back of a closet.

Now, he is grateful for this lapse.

"Here we go." Jarvis says, sitting down on the bed again. Anthony obligingly scoots over, creating room for Jarvis to set the books down beside him.

"I'll read you these, or a few of these, tonight, and then tomorrow I'll teach you the alphabet, okay?"

Anthony nods eagerly, his face lit up with excitement, and although Jarvis knows he is going to be exhausted in the morning, this is worth it.

"Alright." Jarvis opens the first book. "The Cat In The Hat, by Dr. Seuss." Jarvis clears his throat, turning to the first page. " 'The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play.' " He begins, reading aloud. " 'So we sat in the house all that cold, cold, wet day...' "

Jarvis reads to Anthony, book after book, until he looks up from "Goodnight Moon" to see Anthony fast asleep. A fond smile on his features, Jarvis gathers up the books and quietly makes his way to the door.

"Good night, Anthony." He says quietly, before closing the door behind him.

 

Jarvis _is_ exhausted the next morning, but the secret, happy, smile that Anthony gives him over breakfast makes it more than worth it.


	5. Darkness That Is Not Black At All, But the Lack of Everything Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has Tony's thoughts, emotions and stuff bleeding through A LOT, so you can tell what he's going through. Hopefully it's still understandable.
> 
> There's things that could be triggers in this chapter for some people, so please proceed with caution.

Tony stares at the closed door for a few minutes, well, the place where he's pretty sure the door is, because suddenly the room is _really_ dark. Like, can't see your hand an inch in front of your face dark.

Finally, he turns, breaking out of the half-trance-like state he had been in as he struggled to sort through what on earth had just happened to him.

Tony blinks a few times, trying to see the rest of the room, but there's literally _nothing_.

"Well." Tony says aloud, not that he really needs to, but it's something to bake up the monotony of BLACK, like, everywhere. "This isn't so bad, I can handle this." 

Even as he says it, though, he wonders if it's true.

-_-_-_-_

Time passes, but it's impossible to determine how much.

Tony has explored the room as much as possible, ripping open the cardboard boxes and organizing the tins of crackers and bottled water inside, pacing the 10 x 10 walls, wrinkling his nose at a bucket in the corner when he determines it's purpose.

He's done everything there is to do in this tiny room, and now, in an understatement of the century, he's _**bored**_.

Tony lets out yet another sigh, lying on his back on the cot, staring up at a ceiling he can't see.

"Twinkle, Twinkle, little star, how I wonder where you are..."

Softly, he sings the words to a tune Jarvis had taught him, years and years ago.

If anyone was around, Tony would feel utterly ridiculous, singing children's songs, but there was - obviously - no one else in the room, and he hadn't found any cameras in his earlier explorations. 

That didn't mean they weren't there, but, frankly, Tony would live with the embarrassment as long as it meant that there was something to take his mind off of the darkness, all around him, everywhere, lack and nothing, just a void.

So he sings everything he can remember, songs Jarvis had song to him as a child, the wordless melodies that Maria had sometimes hummed, the childish tunes Alex had taught him on his off days, sings until his voice is little more than a rasp in the back of his throat.

He swings off of the bed and fumbles around until he finds one of the water bottles, then sips at it as he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the dark.

Tony estimates that it is the second or third day. Half a week still to go.

-_-_-_-_

The dark is all around, everywhere, and nothing Tony does will make it light and it is dark and if he could just _see_ , then he'd be fine, then he could breathe and-

"3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169...."

Gotta keep speaking, the sound of his own voice is something to hold on to, so he doesn't go insane.

"...399375105820974944592307816406286 20899862803482534211..."

Too many thoughts, bouncing around his brain, and it's so _dark_ that Tony can't get control of his thoughts because it's too much, too much all at once and Tony simply _can't handle it._

"7067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481..."

So he speaks, Pi, on and on and on, never ending, as much as he had memorized from the math books Howard owned.

"117450284102701938521105559644622948954930381964428810975665933446128475648233..."

He has to stay strong, he can't break, because breaking is losing, and Tony refuses to lose, **Stark men are made of iron** , so he has to keep going, don't stop, never stop...

"78678316527120190914564856692346034861045432664...8...2...1...3....." 

Tony takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, though it doesn't affect the darkness all around him and attempts to continue.

"393...607...26...0249.......1....41.....273...7......" His voice stutters to a stop, and he doesn't try to continue. He doesn't remember much more, anyways. Oh, god, this is a certain hell reserved just for him. What, exactly, did he do to deserve this? Tony takes a deep breath, in, out, until he no longer feels tears prickling at his eyes. "Okay." He says aloud, though his voice is so cracked and broken that he can barely understand what he is saying. "Okay. Keep it together, Tony. You can't let _Obadiah_ ," He spits out the name with a hatred he hasn't felt for anyone else before, not even Howard, "win. You can do this. I can do this. I can..." He breaks off with a sob that he can't quite hold back, burying his face in his hands. How many days has it been? Five, six? God, when will this be **over?**

-_-_-_-_

The click of the lock is as loud as a gunshot in the silent room.

Tony immediately jerks upright, torn out of the half-sleep he had been drifting in, all senses immediately trained on the spot of darkness where he knew the door to be.

There is silence for several minutes, and Tony slowly relaxes again, leaning up against the wall that the cot is pushed up against. Despite his attempts to push it down, a bright flare of hope had flowered in his chest, only to wilt just as quickly.

He stares at the door dejectedly, which just makes the light that shines through when it swings open all that more blinding.

Tony cries out in surprise, jerking backwards and flinging a hand up to cover his eyes against the light suddenly flooding the room.

His knee-jerk reaction sends him sprawling off the cot onto the floor, where he remains, shielding his eyes from the light as best he can in the crook of his elbow.

There is a chuckle at the doorway, and Tony feels anger roil deep in his gut.

 _Patience._ He tells himself. _Wait a bit. Or you'll end up spending up even more time in here._

So he doesn't lash out the way he wants to, doesn't throw himself at the figure in the doorway and tear at him with nails and punch and kick and - 

Tony takes in a deep shuddering breath and keeps his eyes screwed firmly shut as Obadiah moves farther into the room, coming up to Tony so that he's blocking the light.

"Well, well, look at you."

Obadiah's voice rumbles through the tiny room, and Tony represses a flinch at hearing something other than his own voice. 

**Be strong.**

"Are you ready to be the perfect little Omega for me now?"

A huge hand comes up and gently traces along the side of Tony's face, and this time he can't hold back the shudder that has him jerking away from the touch.

Obadiah chuckles, amused. "I think you are."

Tony cracks one eye open enough to see Obadiah stand and look around the room, eyes running past the shredded bits of cardboard box that Tony had torn up at one point in frustration, over the empty food wrappers littering the floor, pausing only briefly on the bucket in the corner, his lip curling slightly as the smell reaches him, before his gaze comes to rest upon Tony like a physical weight.

"Come, boy." Is all Obadiah says before turning and striding out of the room, leaving Tony to blink into the once-again unblocked light before scrambling up from his sprawled position on the floor.

 _This isn't over._ Tony thinks fiercely to himself as he follows Obadiah - Master - out into the sunlit world once again. _I'll play along, for now, but I will get my revenge._

Distantly, some part of his brain comments that he sounds like something from an old western movie.

The thought almost sends him bursting into laughter, and he has to bite his lip to contain his giggles.

Another thought crosses his mind that he might have gone a bit crazy in that room.

Tony can't bring himself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As always, feedback is welcome and very much appreciated.


	6. Day After Day After Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the chapter, and as I realize it can be at times a bit confusing, so if you have any questions or concerns, drop me a comment, and I'll try to respond!
> 
> Warnings: Death, Semi-graphic descriptions of violence

The first few hours of his release from the room is a haze of blinding light and indistinct shapes. Finally, Tony’s vision normalizes enough to finally recognize what is around him. What he sees makes him jerk back against the firm grip Obadiah has on him, to no avail.

There's another man, a stranger, standing in front of him, dressed in ominous black clothes, holding... something up to Tony's neck. Tony jerks his head away, and the stranger makes an annoyed sound. 

"Hold him." He says, his voice low and raspy.

Obadiah brings the hand not currently clasping Tony's hands behind his back up to tilt Tony's head to the side, his fingers gripping Tony's hair painfully. Tony stills, though he watches the man with wide eyes as he brings the thing up to Tony's neck again. 

It's got a long needle on it, attached to a handle and a vial of some sort. 

That's all that Tony can see before it is out of his view, and pain erupts along his neck, just inches under the base of his jaw line.

He manages to bite back his cry of pain, but Tony can't help himself from jerking in Obadiah's hold, although it does absolutely nothing to get him away, and the stranger doesn't seem phased. Obadiah grips him tighter, then bends his head slightly to whisper in Tony's ear. "Hold still now, boy. You're going to appreciate this, later. Being marked as mine. Everyone will know who you belong to." 

With a flash of horror, Tony finally realizes what exactly is happening, and who the stranger is - a tattoo artist. Tony is, for lack of a better word, being _marked._ A part - a very small, distant part - of him brightens at the idea, glad to be marked, to be owned by his Alpha. 

Tony ruthlessly crushes that back into a small, distant part of his brain, but can't quite completely irradiate it. Damn Omega feelings.

He falls limp as the man moves the tattoo machine over his neck, and then stiffens again as he realizes, what, exactly, the hard length of stiffness that is poking into his lower back is.

Obadiah must really enjoy the idea of getting his _property_ marked.

Tony closes his eyes against another wave of pain and revulsion, and wishes this was over.

-_-_-_-_

Time passes. 

When Tony looks back, sometimes it seems to be only days. Other times, it seems to be millenniums.

But the calendar hanging on the wall of the kitchen is clear. A day, a month, a year... 

His new life doesn't get better. 

But it doesn't get worse, either. 

For the most part, Obie - as Tony's been told to call him, when after even several beatings Tony still refused to call him Master - ignored Tony, or, when he did notice him, dismissively called him "boy" and didn't bother with him too much. 

No, Obie only really took notice of him once every few months or so. 

Every few months, when tingles would spread through Tony's body, and heat would pool in his belly, and he could not be satisfied. 

Obie took notice then. 

Boy, did he take notice. 

But apart from those occasions, life went on, and, under Sarah's guidance, Tony becomes used to life with Obie in the Malibu house. Obie is gone most of the time, to New York or on business trips across the world, and Tony's left to spend most of his time by himself. In a stroke of luck, he discovers a library that is nearly always unlocked, stocked with books that Tony thinks Obie got jut to impress any visitors, because most of them have never even been opened. They work well for Tony's purposes, though, especially the science and engineering ones. There's quite a few of the latter, mostly pertaining to weapon systems and manufacturing, which Tony assumes is due to Obie's co-owning of Stark Industries.

In engineering, Tony has found his passion. He drinks up the books like water, reading near constantly when Obie is away on business, as he often is.

After a while, though, Tony begins to long to do more than read. Engineering is a practical science, after all, and reading can only get you so far.

Finally, his itching restlessness gets the best of him, and, almost without him realizing it, Tony finds himself taking apart nearly every mechanical device in his immediate vicinity, just to see what they look like, how they work, how to make them better. He always resists the urge of the last one, instead putting the things –alarm clocks, remotes, even the toaster on one occasion – back together the way he had found them. The last thing Tony needs is for Obadiah to find out than not only is he educated, but he has been so for years, and is now methodically working his way through nearly every mechanical item in the house, taking them apart and fiddling with them, just to learn more.

Then, one day, Tony gets caught.

He had just barely cracked open the back casing of the microwave, wires and makeshift tools scattered around him, when he heard the door to the kitchen creak open. Tony froze. What? How is this possible? He had checked to make sure Obie is gone - at a meeting, and all of the staff are out – it’s a Saturday, after all - so how could someone be coming into the room?

But besides the impossibility of the situation, there it is, footsteps coming steadily closer to him. 

His view of the intruder was temporarily blocked by the bar, just as the entering person's view of Tony was blocked. Using this to his advantage, Tony scooted backwards as quietly as he could, heading towards an alcove by the alcohol cabinet.

Unfortunately, moving a microwave _quietly_ isn't really a viable option, ad Tony winces as a loud screech bursts forth as the microwave skids across the floor.

The footsteps stop, then increase in tempo, as the person rounds the bar.

Tony keeps his gaze downward, knowing that Obie is going to be mad enough - furious - without the added insult of Tony meeting his gaze, even if he might have done it in any other situation.

The footsteps halt a few feet from his crouched position, and Tony tenses, preparing for the blows that are soon to come.

A minute passes, two, and nothing happens.

Tony's brow furrows in confusion, and, unable to resist, punishment or no, he looks up.

And immediately relaxes, a breath leaving him in an exclamation that was most certainly _not_ almost a sob. He leans back against the wall of the kitchen and shakes his head.

"God, don't do that! You terrified me! I thought you were Obie!"

Sarah doesn't respond immediately, instead continuing to gaze around at the scattered bits of wire and plastic with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, Tony." She finally says, and it comes out as a sigh. "What have you done?"

"I'll fix it!" Tony says quickly, instantly defensive. "It's not even that big of a deal, I just pried off the back casing, I wasn't even going to do that much, I just wanted a look at the bulb and the..." He trails off as he realizes Sarah is shaking her head at him.

"Tony, you're... you're educated, aren't you?" She asks, although it's more of a statement than a question.

Tony is silent for a moment, just staring at her, then he nods. "Yes." He says quietly. "My old butler taught me to read, and... and I've been sneaking into Obie's library when he's gone to read." He finishes quickly, deciding that if he's going to tell her some of it, he might as well tell her everything.

Tears begin to fill up her large brown eyes, and Tony surges to his feet, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

"Hey, hey, don't cry. It's all right." He says, completely unsure how to dwell with this situation.

"When the master finds out..." Sarah trails off, but she doesn't need to continue, Tony knows, and represses a shudder at the thought. An educated Omega is against the law and punishable by death.

"Well, he won't find out." He says, with more bravado than he actually feels. Then he hesitates, turning back to Sarah. "You... you won't tell him, right?" Tony asks, worry tingeing his voice.

Sarah looks over at him, shocked. "Of course not!" She says, sounding horrified. "Never! But you have to be more careful, or he's going to find out anyways. In fact, that's why I was in the kitchen in the first place. I came to find you, to let you know that he's going to be home soon." She looks around at the mess that Tony's made. "We'd better hurry and clean this up before he gets here."

Tony curses, but hastens to put the casing back on, and, with Sarah's help, everything is back where it's supposed to be when the front door opens and Obie calls through the house for them.

"I'll be more careful, I promise." Tony whispers to Sarah as they make their way towards Obie.

Sarah looks over at him, doubt and worry in her eyes, but nods.

Tony forgets about it soon, figuring that's the end of it.

Unfortunately, he's wrong.

-_-_-_-_

"How long have you been doing this?!" Obie roars at him.

Tony skitters backward on his hands and feet, hissing as his hand comes down hard on a piece of glass, but his attempts to evade Obie's wrath come to an end as Obie reaches forward, and with an ease that Tony might admire if he weren't in this situation, pulls Tony up by his collar to dangle in front of Obie, his feet only brushing the floor.

"Tell me!" Obie continues to shout, apparently oblivious to the way Tony is scrabbling at his neck, unable to breath. "How long have you been able to read? How long have you been... _engineering,"_ he says the word with a sneer of disgust, "with **my** stuff, without telling me?"

Curious, he seems to be more enraged at the fact that he hadn't known instead of the fact that Tony had been doing it in the first place.

Which logically - or as logical as he can be while dangling in his Alpha's choking grip - brings Tony to the question of how he had found out in the first place.

Tony had been careful, just as he had promised Sarah, a few weeks ago, and hadn’t so much as popped off the battery cover of the TV remote when Obie was in the house.

Then, out of nowhere, Obie had stormed in whilst Tony was elbow deep in the TV, though he was supposed to be at a conference in New York for the next week.

At the moment, though, Tony can’t devote much attention to figuring it out, dedicated as he is to **breathing.**

His futile attempts to escape are getting weaker and darkness is starting to encroach on his vision when Obie finally lets go, and Tony collapses to a heap on the ground in front of him, gasping for breath. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” Obie says, stalking around Tony’s crumpled figure, his voice low and threatening. “Did you think I was stupid? Did you think you could really get away with this? Did you think that I don’t know every single thing about you?” 

Obie comes to a halt in front of him, but Tony doesn’t look up.

“Don’t you realize by now?” He asks, his voice now frightenly gentle and soft. “I _own_ you, boy. You, your body, the clothes on your back, your very _**soul.”**_

Something inside Tony cowers at the deadliness in Obie’s voice, seeking to hide from the anger in his Alpha’s voice, and Tony shudders, still avoiding Obie’s gaze. His breath leaves him in a gasp as Obie aims a sharp kick to his ribs, effectively rolling him over onto his back, staring up at Obie as he once ore tries to recover his breath.

“Funny things, security cameras.” Obie is saying now. “I had never even considered the thought that I might need them _inside_ my house. But then Howard, your father, ironically enough,” Obie chuckles at that it of humor that Tony really can’t find funny, “sometime when he wasn’t busy making new weapons, found the time to invent this fancy new security system, and I figured it was good for publicity and sales to get one for myself. I actually had it installed a few weeks ago, I’m sure you noticed,” Tony had, but he hadn’t thought much of the few construction workers in the area, they were only there for a day or two, and he had mostly kept out of their way and hadn’t bothered to find out what they were working on. Now, he desperately wished that he had. 

“But I haven’t checked the video footage until today. After all, I thought, there’s nothing I need to worry about. My staff and Omegas are **good, responsible, honest.”**

Each word is accompanied by another kick in Tony’s side, and he curls up, trying to protect his ribs.

“So I check the footage, and, what do I find?”

Obie pauses, but Tony knows better than to answer the clearly rhetorical question.

“Why, nothing other than my _supposedly uneducated_ Omega ripping apart my things, and seeming to know what he’s doing!”

Obie pauses in his rant, looking down at Tony with an odd, calculating expression.

“Who taught you? Who taught you how to do all this, how to read?”

Tony stays silent, looking away.

Obie lunges forward, gripping Tony’s shirt in both of his hands and yanks Tony to his feet. A yelp escapes his lips at the sudden movement before he can hold it back, but then he snaps his mouth shut again, determined not to betray Jarvis.

“Tell me!” Obie shakes Tony roughly, and his head snaps back and forth, leaving him momentarily dazed, and he nearly misses the light rap on the door.

Obie must have heard it as well, obviously, because his head snaps towards the door, nostrils flaring slightly as he tries to catch the scent of the person waiting outside. With an annoyed grunt, he drops Tony in an undignified heap on the carpet, then strides over towards the door.

Pulling it open in a rough moment, he snarls at the person outside, “Yes? What do you want?”

“Oh, ah, I didn’t realize you were home, sir.” Sarah’s timid voice drifted over to where Tony sits, but his view of her is blocked by the open door. “I was just, um, looking for Tony.”

“Yes, well, he’s with me, leave!” Obie snaps back impatiently. There’s a shuffle of feet that Tony assumes is Sarah leaving before Obie turns back to face him.

Obie starts to close the door, then hesitates, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He regards Tony for a moment, then an evil grin crosses his face, and he turns back to the doorway.

“Actually, girl, come back here!” He calls out into the hallway, and Tony feels a flash of dread.

No, surely not. Obie wouldn’t-

“Yes, Master?” Sarah’s voice again, tinged with curiosity.

The sharp sound of skin hitting skin, and Sarah’s gasp of pain sends Tony jolting to his feet, indignant exclamations on the tip of his tongue. He falls silent when Obie yanks Sarah into his view, one hand tangled in her hair, the other holding a knife that he grabbed from God-knows-where up to her neck.

Her eyes are wide with fear and pain, and a bruise is already forming, large and ugly, on her cheekbone. Tony clenches his fists by his sides, but doesn’t dare to do anything else with that knife so near Sarah’s throat.

“Let her go, Obie.” Tony says, his voice low and shaking with barely suppressed rage.

Obie smirks, cool and calculating, as he says, “Why, of course I will, boy. After all, I know how good of friends you and Sarah here," He shakes her as he says her name, "have become. I'll let her go... as soon as you tell me what I want to know.”

Tony swallows hard, looking back and forth between Sarah and Obie, torn with indecision. Obie's gaze hardens, and he digs the knife slightly into the pale flesh of Sarah's neck, prompting a whimper from her as a drop of blood rolls away from the thin line of red.

"Okay, okay, fine." Tony says quickly. "Just, don't hurt her."

Obie eases back the knife, though he keeps it close to Sarah's neck, a triumphant grin snaking across his face. "Good boy." Tony grimaces at the endearment, but Obie doesn't seem phased as he continues, "So, tell me, how did you learn to read?"

"I taught myself." Tony replies, because there's no way he's going to betray Jarvis, not after all the butler's done for him, but he has to say _something,_ for Sarah's sake. "My parent's got some books for me before they realized that I was an Omega. I discovered them one day and used them to teach myself." It's not very close to the truth, but Tony's always been a talented liar. He's had to be.

Obie nods, slowly, considering. "That's all very well and good," he says at last, "But children's books aren't exactly going to teach you how to take apart a television set." He glances pointedly at the mutilated TV behind Tony.

Tony flushes slightly, and, hanging his head, says quietly, "I might have snuck into your library while you were gone and read some of the books..." 

Obie's eyebrows raise, seemingly genuinely shocked. "And you understood them?" He says, disbelief in his voice.

"Well, sure." Tony frowns, his head coming up as he considers the question. "I mean, I didn't understand some of the words and stuff, but with the context and everything, I understood the basic concepts of everything." He shrugged. "It wasn't that hard."

Obie stares at him for a minute in silence, lost in thought, before Sarah shifts nervously in his grip and he seems to snap back to the present. "Boy," He says, his voice low and serious, "There's not a single book in my library that's below college level reading. In fact, I don't even understand most of them. I mainly keep them around to impress my visitors."

Tony bites back a grin at having his suspicions proven correct, then his eyebrows raise as the full implications of Obie's words hit him. "I- I mean, I don't know, I didn't... They're not that hard for me." He says at last, shrugging helplessly.

There's a light in Obie's eyes, one that Tony has only seen once before, when Obie first purchased him. "Tony," He says, for once actually using Tony's given name, which is enough for Tony to pay attention, "Do you think, given time and the right materials, you could make the weapons in those books."

Tony frowns slightly, contemplating, then shrugs. "Sure. It wouldn't be too hard. I might even be able to make them better."

Obie grins, wide and jolly. "Oh, I knew I was glad to have bought you!" He says gleefully. "Tony, my boy, we are going places."

Tony stares at Obie for a moment, shocked, then glances at Sarah, who looks just as confused as Tony feels. "So... you're not mad at me?" He says slowly.

"Of course I am!" Obie says, still sounding happy. "Absolutely furious. What you've done is breaking the law and a direct violation of my orders. However, boy, lucky for you, you just became very, very valuable to me. Therefore, I'm not going to punish you."

The wave of relief that washes over Tony threatens to send him crashing to the floor, so heady is it. Close on its heels, however, is suspicion. Surely it's not that easy.

"Then, that's it? You're just going to forgive me?" He asks suspiciously.

"Oh no. A punishment still needs to be doled out. I only said that I wouldn't punish _you."_

Tony's eyes flash to Sarah's just in time to see the dawning recognition there, and he feels sick. Obie grins as he sees that Tony understands what he means.

"Fortunately, Sarah here is much less valuable to me, and a punishment does need to happen." He says.

The words are barely out of his mouth before Tony starts shouting. "No! You can't! She didn't have any part of this, she's innocent, let her go, she didn't-"

"Oh, Tony." Obie shakes his head, tutting. "She's not completely innocent, though, is she? She knew about your education, and she didn't tell me. Security!" He suddenly shouts, and there is the sounds of heavy footfalls running towards the room.

Tony leaps towards Obie, desperate, no plan in mind, just the desire to get Sarah out, to cause Obie pain. He only lands one punch before he is pulled backward, strong hands gripping his arms.

Tony is screaming inarticulately, unsure himself of what exactly he is saying, only feeling the complete and utter rage. He knows what Obie can do, what he probably will do, to Sarah. And the awful thing is, it's all completely legal.

Obie straightens, wiping a few drops of blood from his split lip, _I put that there,_ some part of Tony notes with satisfaction.

Sarah is held by another black-clothed guard, and with a glare at Tony, Obie whips around to face her. He is still holding the knife in one hand, and he hands it to the one security guard not holding one of the two Omegas.

"I don't like getting my hands dirty." He confides to Tony, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "But John here is such the wonderful head of security, and I pay him enough for him to do anything I ask him to."

"No, please." Tony whispers, his voice only barely louder than Sarah's terrified whimpers. "Don't do this."

"Just remember, boy, this is your fault." Obie says coldly, before turning to John. "Kill her."

"NO!" Tony's shout can't quite cover the sound of Sarah's dying scream as John slits her throat, her blood splattering around her in a scarlet wave.

Obie quickly steps backward, but a spot of blood still lands on his shoe. He wrinkles his nose at it, then turns to face Tony.

Tony is in shock, slumping in the strong grip that holds him, staring at Sarah's bloodstained corpse, still hanging in the guard's grasp. Slowly, he turns his head to look at Obie, his gaze passing past John's stony face with a shudder.

"Now, I trust we won't have any more trouble from you?" Obie says brightly as he pulls his handkerchief from an inside pocket. Tony stares numbly at him as Obie reaches down to swipe up the drop of blood from his shoe. Slowly, he shakes his head, and Obie beams. "Wonderful." He says, then, without looking away from Tony, "Get rid of the body. Discreetly."

The hands holding Tony fall off him, and he sways before finding his balance. Obie strides forward and wraps an arm around his shoulder, the handkerchief still in his hand. "My boy, if you work with me, life can be very, very good for you. If not.... well, I don't think I really have to go into that, do I? There are worse things than just a dark room, after all." Tony shudders, and Obie grins. "Now, I've got this wonderful workshop that I've never even used, and it has all the necessary tools you'll need to..."

Tony stops paying attention to what Obie is saying, only walking numbly beside him as Obie guides him out of the room by the arm on his shoulder, past the bloodstain on the floor. Even when they leave the room, though, the bitter copper scent of blood lingers, and Tony glances out of the corner of his eye to see Obie's bloodstained handkerchief inches away from his face.

He shudders, clenching his eyes shut. _That's it._ Tony tells himself firmly. _I'm getting out of here. I would rather die than live with Obadiah Stane._

-_-_-_-_

Plans are set into motion that day, and neither Tony, nor Obadiah, could possibly have guessed where they would have ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I realize this might have come across as rather confusing, so if you have any questions or concern, _please_ let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Behind these Walls

Three weeks after Sarah's 'untimely' death, there's a scandal in one of the SI stock-holder's households as a dead body is discovered on the premises of one of their homes. Investigations reveal that the body is one of the household's Omegas. Technically, Alpha's are allowed to do whatever they please with their Omegas, including killing them, although it is frowned upon.

At a press conference Stark Industries calls to address the issue, one reporter asks Obadiah how he feels about the issue.

Obie shakes his head, a regretful expression on his face. "It's a waste, a terrible waste. I could never condone killing an Omega. There's always some use for them."

Tony, who's watching the press conference on the small television in his brand-new lab, sees red. He completely trashes his workshop, ripping apart machines and pushing over tables. When Obie gets home and sees the mess, Tony'll be in trouble. At the moment, though, he can't seem to care.

-_-_-_-_

Tony stumbles from the room, barely catching himself before he crashes to the ground. He turns around to face the door just in time to catch a glimpse of Obie’s triumphant smirk just before the door slams in his face.

Sighing, Tony wipes cum off his chin as he turns away from the door and starts down the hall towards the stairs. He rubs his throat as he trots down the staircase, with all intent to spend some time in his lab.

Well, now he knows how Obie feels about the idea of Omega heat suppressants.

Tony is definitely never going to bring up that particular idea again.

-_-_-_-_

The drink burns his throat as he swallows, and Tony grimaces. Regardless, he throws back another mouthful of the amber-colored scotch. Perhaps, if he drinks enough, the beverage can fill the aching hole in his chest.

Who knew that the news of his parent’s deaths would affect him so deeply?

But it’s not that, he knows, not really. He couldn’t care less that his father had died, it’s not like the man had ever showed him a whit of affection. And even Maria, though she loved Tony in her own way, had been distant, unable to quite get over the disappointment of her only child being an Omega. She had tried, of course, had favored him with a smile and some kind words every once in a while, between bottles of wine and the next gala. But a child of three needs a mother, not a nanny.

No, the loss that truly sends him to the bottle, that caused this tearing pain within his chest, was the death of the former Stark family butler, Edwin Jarvis.

His mind automatically shies away from the thought of the death of such a man, his care-taker, his mentor, his friend. And certainly Jarvis had been more of a father to Tony than Howard ever had.

Why couldn’t their normal driver have driven them to the party? Why did Jarvis have to have insisted on letting the man visit his pregnant daughter-in-law, and on driving the Stark family himself, instead?

“Goddamn it.” Tony mutters, his voice slurred by the alcohol now coursing through his veins. “Why’d you have to go and fucking _die,_ Jarvis?”

And what a way to find out, too! A brief phone call from Obie, from where he is in New York, managing the exchange of power that Howard’s death had caused in Stark Industries… or rather, Stane Industries, now.

Tony snorts aloud at the thought of the new name. “Stane Industries.” He slurs. “So pretentious. He’s in charge now, so he gets to **brand** his name on whatever he wants.” His hand creeps up to his neck to touch the slightly raised skin, running his fingers over the black ink, tracing out the letters spelling out OS. _Obadiah Stane._

Tony’s head drops onto the table, suddenly too heavy to hold up on his own neck. The newspaper he had picked up from the doorstep becomes blurry so close to his face, and he pulls back his head to squint at it, reading words he's already memorized. 

_**Billionaire Genius Howard Stark Dies In Tragic Car Crash**_

 _Howard Stark, the CEO of Stark Industries, and his wife, Maria, along with the family butler, Edwin Jarvis, died in a tragic car crash yesterday evening, when the braking systems of their car failed, sending them crashing into a tree. The Stark couple were on their way home from a gala under one of the Stark's may charities. At this point, Howard Stark's reclusive son Anthony has not been found from his self-imposed exile two years ago, so Howard Stark's company, Stark Industries, is going to his CFO and partner, Obadiah Stane. Mr. Stane has made the decision to change the name of the company..._

Tony stops reading, attention caught on one son. "Reclusive, ha!" He mumbles. "Self-imposed, my ass." It's one thing to know that Howard had used quite a bit of bribery and lying to convince the world that his son was a beta and preferred to stay from the public eye, and it was quite another thing to see that the world genuinely thought the reason they hadn't heard anything about him for a long time was that he had _chosen_ to be a recluse.

Tony throws back another gulp of scotch, the burn of the alcohol no longer even registering as he stares blearily out into his lab, hoping to find a distraction from such depressing thoughts. A metal caw across the room grabs his attention and he squints at it, sudden ideas flashing through his mind.

”I could use some help around the lab.” He mutters to himself as a plan forms in his mind. And maybe, if he focuses on something else, this heartache will ease somewhat.

-_-_-_-_

Needless to say, Obie is quite surprised to enter the lab after returning from New York to find a robotic claw arm AI that had most certainly _not_ been there when he left. After watching it for a while, he understands quite clearly why his Omega has decided to call it Dummy, but he lets it stay, figuring that even such a clumbsy robot couldn't destroy the lab single-handedly.

At least, he hoped so.

-_-_-_-_

“Tony!” Obie’s voice echoes through the house, and Tony sighs. He carefully sets aside the welding torch he had been holding just as Obie appeared in the doorway. “How’s my wonderful little genius on this fine day?” Obie asks jovially as he strides farther into the room. It’s a good day, then. Tony relaxes minutely as he turns his head slightly to keep Obie in view.

Tony pushes the safety goggles farther up on his head, pushing his hair back, and wipes the back of his palm across his sweaty brow as he regards the man. “Pretty good.” He replies evenly. “Of course, the circuit boards I requested still haven’t arrived, which is setting back my plans, but I did finish the blueprints for the Demon missiles, so that’s a plus.” 

Obie nods as he strides farther into the room, navigating around the cluttered lab tables with ease. He comes up behind Tony, and Tony is proud of himself for not tensing or flinching as Obie snakes an arm around his waist, pulling Tony’s body up against himself. His newly growing beard brushes against the side of Tony’s face, and he has to resist the urge to giggle. In his defense, it does tickle!

When Obie had starting growing a beard a few weeks ago, to make up for his hair, which he had shaved when it had begun turning gray, Tony had hated the prickling sensation that the growing hairs formed on Obie’s face. Later, Obie had a goatee, and Tony had loved the style, but agreed with Obie in that it looked absolutely awful on Obie. So Obie had kept on growing it, and now it was long and soft. Tony still thought that in a few years, when he could grow it out to more than scraggly wisps, he would grow out a goatee, if Obie let him.

Obie makes an impatient noise, and his arm tightens minutely around Tony’s waist. With a start, Tony realizes that Obie had said something, but Tony had been too caught up in his own train of thought to catch it.

“Oh, um, I didn’t hear that, what did you say?” 

Obie sighs, and although Tony can’t see it, he knows that Obie’s rolling his eyes. “I _said,”_ Obie repeated, with unnecessary slowness and emphasis, “that it’s your birthday next week.”

“Oh.” Tony blinks, surprised. “Is it really? Huh. Okay.”

Obie chuckles, low and dark and ominous, even if he hadn’t meant for it to sound that way. Tony pulls away slightly, twisting to see Obie. “So what? Why do you bring this up?”

Birthdays had always gone unnoticed in the past. In fact, for the last few years, Tony hadn’t even realized that he had had his birthday, preoccupied in his lab and his machines as he usually was. Needless to say, that made it suspicious that Obie was bringing it up.

“Do you remember how old you’re going to be?” Obie asks coaxingly, obviously trying to jog Tony’s memory.

“Umm…” Tony wracks his brain for a moment, “No?”

Obie sighs again, disappointment and amusement mingling oddly in his tone as he says, “It’s your eighteenth birthday, boy. Did you even realize that you were going to be an ‘official adult’ in less than seven days?”

“Oh.” Tony blinks, completely taken by surprise. “Wow. Um, no, I completely forgot. How did I forget that?”

“Well, I hope it’s because you were so busy on those Demon missiles, right?” The teasing tone in his voice only barely covers the intent question beneath; Obie wanted to make sure that the relative freedom he “allowed” his Omega was being put to good use.

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Tony hastens to reply, and Obie relaxes slightly, tension that Tony hadn’t noticed bleeding out of him.

“Good, good.” Obie says, nodding.

Obie is silent and still for several more minutes, and Tony is just about to bring up some schematics to work on while Obie is caught up in his thoughts, as he often does, when Obie shifts slightly, pulling in a breath.

“Well, boy, I’m never going to ask this again, so pay attention, but this is a special occasion, your 18th birthday, so…” Obie hesitates, something he never does. Tony turns his head again to see Obie’s face and raises an eyebrow at him. Obie clears his throat, sounding somewhat uncomfortable, before he finally says, “What would you like for your birthday?”

Tony gapes at him, jaw hanging open, for several moments before he is able to overcome his shock and snap his mouth closed.

”Um, wow.” He finally manages to say. “Are you serious or are you just… joking?”

It’s an honest question. This wouldn’t be the first time that Obie had given Tony false hope only to take it away. Not in recent years, however, and not on such a serious matter, but it’s still a possibility.

And, frankly, it’s far more likely than Obie just randomly deciding to give Tony stuff. 

Obie rolls his eyes, and replies irritably, “Yes, I’m serious. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it!”

”Okay, okay!” Tony raises his hands in defense, backing off of this issue. “Fine. Great. Okay. So… anything I want?”

Obie nodded, then seemed to think better and added, “Within reason, of course.”

Tony nodded, not at all surprised, as he pondered what he should choose for this unexpected gift. Aimlessly, his eyes wandered around his workshop as he thought, until they came to rest upon the muted television along one wall. A news report is playing, a repeat of one shown several hours earlier, about the upcoming scientific conference occurring in Los Angeles in just a few days.

”Um, well,” Tony hedges, wondering how Obie will react to this request. Finally, he says in a rush, “There’s a scientific conference next weekend, in Los Angeles. All the great minds of our age will be there. It’s kind of hard to get in, but I’m sure with your influence, you can get a ticket.”

Obie pulls back a bit, obviously shocked, so Tony hurries to add, “It’ll help me in weapon development, too, I can get some outside help, learn a bit more engineering skills, so that I can invent better weapons for you. And nobody has to know I’m an Omega! I’ve still got weeks until my heat, and I can wear lots of cologne to mask my smell. I mean, everyone already thinks I'm a beta, all I'd have to do is stop them from getting close enough to smell me or whate-”

Obie holds up his hand, and Tony stops rambling instantly. He stares anxiously, and hopefully, up at his Alpha, who was staring into face with a contemplative look on his face.

The silence stretched too long, becoming strained, and Tony licked his lips nervously. Finally, obie looked down at him.

”Let me get this straight.” He said slowly. “You want to go to a science convention. You. An Omega. That breaks so many laws I can’t count them all. You can’t honestly expect me to go along with this.”

Tony’s face falls. “Yeah, of course.” He mutters, looking away. “What was I thinking? An Omega going to a scientific conference? Ridiculous.” 

Obie sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I’ll get you some jewelry or pretty clothes or something instead. That’s the sort of stuff Omega’s like, right?”

"Yeah, sure." Tony plasters on a smile that looks more like a grimace, though Obie doesn't seem to notice. "Thanks, Obie."

"Good talk." Obie slaps Tony on the back, sending the slight Omega rocking forward before he can catch himself. Obie doesn't notice as he continues, "I'm going to be in Europe for the rest of the month. I'm expecting the completed prototype for the Demon missile by the end of the week. And don't get into any trouble while I'm gone." Obie pierces Tony with a glare. "I'll know if you do." 

Tony nods, and Obie smiles slightly before turning on his heel and exiting the lab.

-_-_-_-_

"Dummy!" Tony calls out, annoyance tinging his voice from where he's bent over, half-way immersed in the stomach of a semi-constructed missile shell. "Dummy, where's the wrench I-" He cuts himself off when clumbsy robotic fingers place a cool metal tool in the grasping hand he had stretched behind him. "Oh. Thanks."

Dummy made a pleased-sounding trill, then Tony heard his wheels whir across the floor, followed by a crash as Dummy ran into a lab table.

Rolling his eyes, Tony retracted back into the shell of the missile. In the limited light not blocked by the shadow of his body, he brought the allen wrench to a screw that had come loose, before stopping with a sigh.

"Dummy!" He called out again, and heard an answering questioning beep. "In what universe is a flat-head screwdriver an allen wrench?"

There was a dejected trill and Tony sighed again before slowly straightening up, carefully pulling his head out from between the support shafts of the missile's shell. His back protested, and Tony placed his hands in the small of his back before leaning backwards, filling the room with a cacophony of cracks as his back popped more times than Tony could count. He groaned in relief before running a hand through his hair.

"I mean, an allen wrench and a flat-head screwdriver don't even look anything alike!" Tony continues berating Dummy as he strides across the workshop to one of the computer consoles. "Yeah, see, _this_ is why I'm developing a superior AI. Okay, fine, it might also be because he can help me work, but it's _also_ because maybe he can help keep you in line. Of course, that would mean the Artificial Intelligence would have to be integrated into the house systems, but-"

"What's this about an Artificial Intelligence?" Obie's voice comes from behind him, and Tony tenses from where he's know bent over, typing into the computer. He hadn't heard the door open. 

"Oh, hey Obie." Tony straightens slowly, bringing up a facade of easy calm before turning to face Obie. "I thought you wouldn't be back until Friday?"

Obie raises an eyebrow at him. "It _is_ Friday."

Tony frowned, glancing at the calendar on the wall in surprise. "It is? Huh. Sorry." He shrugs I kinda got caught up in my work."

Obie's brow furrows as he gazes around the room, past the scattered tools and half-completed projects, over the dozens of empty coffee cups stacked next the computers, until his gaze comes to rest upon a plate of untouched food that had obviously been sitting out for a while, if the first signs of mold indicated anything. Obie strode over to it and picked it up, turning to present it to Tony, raising an eyebrow as he does so.

"Oh, Pepper must have brought that down for me. I didn't even notice it." Tony says, surprised. As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly.

"God, Tony, my secretary is not your nanny. It's bad enough that she knows who is really coming up with the great weapon ideas for SI-" "Hey, it's not my fault that she recognized my signature from the ownership papers-" Tony protests, but Obie cuts him off. "You shouldn't have signed those blueprints and you know it!" "Well, it's not like anyone looks at them, they're just for the records, and how was I supposed to know you had a new secretary that was actually responsib-" Once again, Obie interupts him. "That's not the point!" Obie shakes his head, getting it back on topic. "What I'm trying to say is that my secretary is not responsible for making sure you eat and sleep. For God's sake, Tony, you're 23 years old. I shouldn't have to be worried about you remembering to _eat!"_

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Tony said, nodding and looking as apologetic as possible. In an effort to distract Obie from his lecture, he continued hurriedly, "Anyways, yeah, you heard me right, Artificial Intelligence. I mean, you know Dummy already," Obie shot a look of wry amusement in the direction of the clawed robot, "but as you may have noticed, he isn't exactly the smartest of bots, and at this point, with the technology we have today, it'll actually be really easy. See," He runs to the computer, pulling up some software programs. "I've already got half of the code written, and It won't take me too long to finish the rest. It won't even slow down my weapons development. And afterwards, we can integrate it into the house systems so it's sort of like an automate butl-"

"Tony." Obie said clearly, and Tony stopped talking, turning to face him. "Go eat, shower, and sleep for a bit."

Tony glanced towards the missile he had been working on. "But-"

"Go." Obie's voice carries a hint of steel now. "You're gonna work yourself to the bone if you keep this up, and I don't want to lose my best engineer. You can finish it later."

"Oh, alright." Tony grumbled bad-naturally, before shuffling from the lab, sending longing looks back at his work. Obie followed, and the door swished shut behind them.

-_-_-_-_-_

"No, he's doing it all wrong!" Tony gestured at the screen on the wall, which showed the paused scene of a nervous-looking man in a lab-coat standing in front of Tony's latest weapon. "I mean, look at that! If anything, he's highlighting the _bad_ points about it, and half of his facts are all wrong, not to mention that his presentation is total shit, not to mention-"

"Could you do better?" Obie snaps out, frustrated at Tony's degrading of the presenter.

"Yes, as a matter of fact!" He returns just as hotly. "I fucking built it, after all. I know everything there is to know about the Hellfire missiles, except," He raised a hand, giving Obie a pointed look, "for the reason why, exactly, it has such a stupid name."

"Look, I understand why you're upset. He is doing a really awful job, but he's the only one in SI that knows your tech well enough to present it." Obie said, trying hard to stay calm. "We don't really have any other choice."

"Oh, come on! A six-year-old could present it better! He-" Tony starts to protest before Obie cuts him off once more.

"Then you do it!" He growls, and Tony stops dead, staring at him in shock. Obie seems a little surprised himself before he slowly nods his head, apparently thinking hard.

"The Board has started getting suspicious as to my 'Anonymous' source for these weapon designs are, and this would be as good a chance as any to introduce you. It wouldn't be too difficult to pass you off as a beta, as long as you wore enough cologne and didn't suddenly go into heat in front of anyone. God knows you already act impudent enough that no one would mistake you as an Omega."

Tony's jaw is literally hanging open as he stares at Obie in disbelief, as unbalanced by this unexpected proposal as he had been when he turned 18. Finally, he slips on a cocky grin and shakes his head, confident that Obie is bluffing. "You know how illegal that is? Of course you do, I don't need to remind you. I mean, I don't see anything wrong with breaking the law where it concerns Omegas, but _I'm_ not the one who would be in the most trouble for it, you wo-"

"Look, I need to get a presentation that I can actually show to the board of the directors, and I really need to stop the rumors that I'm getting these weapon ideas from terrorists in exchange for giving them weapons. This is the best way to do this. _You_ are the best way to do this. We'll say that Tony Stark is back from... Brazil, or whatever, and reveal you to be this genius that's been making weapons for SI all this time."

Obie's on a roll now, a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he figures it out. Tony just stares at him, a rising bubble of hope in his chest. Maybe this means that he'll actually be able to leave this house for once. "This could work out great. The board would be happy, the public would be happy, and SI will develop great new weapons without me having to go through all the paperwork of an anonymous contractor." Obie continues, oblivious to the spreading grin on Tony's face.

Abruptly, Obie whirls around and starts walking towards his office. "Come on, Tony." He calls over his shoulder. "There's lots of work to be done to reintroduce you to the world."

Tony's postiviley beaming now as he follows Obie. _**'Finally.'**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still un-beta'd, so if you see any mistakes, I would love having you point them out to me.
> 
> Kudos and Comments feed my soul. (Not really. But Feedback is appreciated all the same.)


	8. It's Hard To Be A Diamond In A Rhinestone World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is (apparently) from Dolly Parton's Tennessee Homesick Blues
> 
> Warnings for: Almost-smut, Minor Character Death, and kidnapping
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark!" The flashes of dozens of cameras and the chaos of just as many reporters calling for his attention is something Tony is starting to get used to, but he doubts he will ever get to the point where he will truly enjoy it. Sure, he loves basking in the attention, loves having the public eye on him, loves being in the lime-light; but does he love having to have bodyguards to keep the reporters at bay, love having to wear sunglasses so that he can even see, love having questions fired at him faster than he can answer? Not so much.

Still, he reminds himself, anything is better than being stuck in Obie's basement all his life, churning out weapon after weapon. Even a press conference over his latest weapon.

"Mr. Stark!" One reporter catches his attention, a young, pretty thing, with long, blonde hair and big, blue eyes. _'America's Sweetheart type,'_ Tony thinks idly. He leans over the stand, smiling lasciviously at her. "Yes, gorgeous?"

She blushes, but Tony has to give her points for keeping her composure, barely stuttering at all as she asks her question. "Mr. Stark, do you intend to ever reclaim Stane Industries for the Stark name from Obadiah Stane?"

Tony sighs as he straightens up again. He _had_ hoped to be able to get through at least _one_ weapon press conference without a question about his personal life. Still, he guesses it is to be expected, after the wonder-kid Stark had returned to the world after over two decades of hiding from the public eye. But, come on, really, he would have expected that after nearly four years of saying it over and over, people would start to understand that he really didn't want the company.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Obie stiffen, and realizes he has yet to answer the blonde reporter. "Nah." He says, affixing an easy grin. "I wouldn't want to handle all that business stuff, are you kidding me? I'd much rather be inventing stuff than organizing how it gets sold. Trust me, Obie here does it much better than I ever could." He claps Obie on the shoulder and feels him twitch with irritation. Tony smirks, knowing that Obie can't do anything at all about Tony's impudence without revealing Tony's nature, something Obie could never do.

Tony grins as cameras flash once more, him profiled against the new missile system behind him, grins because right now, he's on top of the world.

-_-_-_-_-_

Afterwards, before Obie can drag him away to the car, Tony _accidentally_ loses him in the crush of people and slips away. He feels a hand gently grab his arm, and looks over to see the blonde reporter smiling coyly at him, and Tony leers back. She's quite pretty, for a Beta, and they slip off together.

-_-_-_-_-_

He gets off against an alley wall, her deft fingers bringing him to a climax as they pant and moan and push against each other. The back of his dress slacks are soaked, but she doesn't notice, too undone herself. He slips away before she truly comes back down from her high, and makes it back to the limo. Obie glares daggers, eyes promising painful punishment, and Tony smirks.

-_-_-_-_-_

It's in the tabloids the next day, of course, but it's not like anyone cares. Tony Stark being in the tabloids are nothing new.

It's just Tony's luck, though, that of course Obie cares.

-_-_-_-_-_

The dance floor is a sea of writhing bodies and scantily covered skin, while a beat thrums through the air and drunken couples fumble with each other. Tony leans against the bar, his tie undone and a smirk on his face as he observes the room. It's one of the few parties that Obie hasn't been able to weasel him out of, mainly because the invitation was from OsCorp, a company that they had tentative relationships, and one which Obie really wanted on his side. To refuse to come would just be bad manners, so here Tony is. 

He throws back another shot, barely noticing the burn as he pushes Obie from his mind. Instead, Tony looks around the room. He's built quite a reputation for himself during his last seven years of freedom, and he knows he won't be short of willing partners. His eyes pause on a muscular man, Alpha through and through, sitting at a table a ways away. The man's eyes are firmly trained on Tony and he leers as he notices Tony Looking. Tony smirks in return and, with a wave of his fingers in gesture to follow, heads through the mass of bodies toward the back exit of the club. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the man stand up from the table and follow.

Oh, yeah. Tonight is going to be _fun._

Of course, he can't let the guy fuck him, but a handjob, or, hell, even a blowjob wouldn't reveal Tony's orientation, especially in the dark chaos of an alley fumble.

Tony's barely stepped out of the doorway when he's grabbed by the collar and pushed up against the wall, a hard mouth pressing against his hard enough to bruise. Tony moans into the kiss, giving way to the invasive tongue as his eyes slide shut. The man grinds against him, and Tony moans again, feeling himself harden. The mouth slides from him, to rest against his neck, biting and sucking in equal measure as Tony tries to remember how to breathe.

His shirt is ripped open, buttons flying everywhere, clattering along the alley street, as the mans' mouth descends to the joint of Tony's neck and shoulder, worrying the spot with his teeth. Tony's head flies back in utter abandon, and this is _so hot and right and good and oh god do that again-_

There's a sharp report, echoing loudly in the alley after the near-silence broken only by moans. _'Gunshot'_ Tony realizes distantly, still completely out of it. The man on top of him stiffens, then sags, his whole rest coming to weigh against Tony. The air leaves Tony's lungs in a rush, and he gasps for breath as the man slides down to crumple in a heap on the ground in front of Tony.

Dumbly, Tony realizes that the spreading pool around the man is blood. He stares, stock-still, until several dark-cloaked figures jump at him. Tony turns to run, realizing that there is no way he's going to be able to fight these guys, when there is a prick in his neck. It only stings for a moment before things start to go sort of blurry, and darkness encroaches on his vision.

He's unconscious before his body hits the filthy alley ground.

-_-_-_-_-_

Tony had thought that waking up after being knocked out might be a bit like waking up after not nearly enough sleep, or, at worst, perhaps like a hangover the morning after he had drunk himself into oblivion.

He was wrong.

It is much, much worse.

Tony tries to open his eyes, and _that's_ a mistake, as even short glimpse of dim lighting sends spikes of piercing agony into his brain. He moans, loudly, and tries to curl up into the fetal position, only to discover that he can't move his arms and legs at all. He jerks on them, eyes still firmly shut, to discover that his hands and feet are tied with coarse rope to what feels like the arms and legs of a chair. 

Nausea roils in his stomach, and Tony wrenches his head to the side far enough that most of his bile ends up on the ground next to the chair he appears to be sitting in, and not on him. He pants heavily as he struggles to get his stomach into control and, once that's accomplished, opens his eyes, much more slowly and cautious this time.

It still hurts like hell, but he can bear it slightly better. Through squinted eyes, Tony can see a dark figure, and he jerks back in his chair, not that it does any good, when the figure leans towards him. The person, whoever it is, chuckles lowly, maliciously, but does lean back.

Tony opens his eyes slightly more, and his surroundings came into focus. He's in a stark (ha ha) white room, that can't be much more than 10' X 10'. The only things inside appear to be the sturdy metal chair he is tied to, and the man in front of him.

Finally, Tony turns his attention to the man, whom he had been ignoring while he had been examining the room. The man is tall, with gelled-back brown hair and a ridiculously small, oiled mustache. He looks like a villain from a B-rated movie, and Tony can't help but roll his eyes. "Seriously?" He says aloud. "I got kidnapped by wannabe-impostor of the Godfather?" 

The mans slick smirk disappears as he strides forward and backhands him, hard, across the cheek, sending his head snapping to the side. He must have bitten his tongue by accident, because now the coppery taste of blood is filling Tony's mouth.

"You will not speak to me that way." The man snapped, a slight Italian accent in his tone. "Or the consequences will be quite severe."

Slowly, Tony turns his head back to look at the man, severely unimpressed. Raising an eyebrow, Tony questions, "So, what do _you_ want? Money, technology, military secrets, weapons, my company, sex, or just the sweet pleasure of company?" 

The man looks slightly taken aback as Tony rattles off the list, and Tony smirks internally. _'This isn't exactly my first rodeo._ He thinks. _'If you think you are the first person to have ever kidnapped Tony Stark, you are sorely mistaken.'_

And it's true. Just in the last seven years, there have been 18 kidnapping attempts. Tony's always gotten out of them relatively unscathed, and he figures that's the price he has to pay for being such a high-profile figure in society, not to mention the mind behind some of the greatest weapons and weapon systems in the world.

"You, Mr. Stark," Slick has regained his composure, "are going to be held here until SI or your partner, Obadiah Stane, pays the 10 million dollars to return you."

"Look, I'm flattered, really, that you would think I'm worth that much," Tony says, "but you ought to know that SI put into place a no-ransom policy about the fifth time I got kidnapped."

Slick blinks, then his slimy grin comes back. "I'm sure they'll make an exception for you." He steps to the side, and, oh look! There's a camera on a tripod pointed directly at him.

Tony smiles his bright, fake, celebrity smile for the camera, and says, "Obie, if you're watching this; I want all my digital to go to JARVIS, I want my tool kit to go to Dummy, along with my smoothie machine, I suppose you can have my prototypes, but you had better-" 

With a snarl of inarticulate rage, Slick steps forward and hits him again. _'Other cheek, this time, so at least both sides of my face match,'_ Tony thinks, rather hysterically.

His head is still really foggy from whatever drug they had used to knock him out, and the blows to his head are really not helping. Blackness is already dancing around the edges of his vision, and though he pushes it back as well as he is able, eventually, the void swallows him whole, and Tony falls back asleep.

-_-_-_-_-_

When Tony comes to for the second time, he is alone in the room. He cranes his head around, checking, just in case, before muttering quietly. "JARVIS, are you into their systems?"

A voice comes, just as quietly, from his wristwatch. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy." Tony leans back in the chair a bit, getting more comfortable, before he says, a smirk on his face, "Then let the fireworks begin."

Immediately, a klaxon siren starts wailing through the air. There are hurried footsteps outside his door, presumably his guards running towards wherever the source of the alarms is. There is a pause, then a click as his door unlocks and swings open.

That's when Tony encounters a problem.

"Uh, JARVIS? I'm still tied to this chair."

"I am aware of that, sir. Lt. Col. Rhodes is on his way to your position."

"Rhodey's here?" A wide grin spreads across Tony's face. "I thought he was still overseas."

"I'm on leave." This time, the voice comes not from Tony's watch, but the doorway in front of him, where Rhodey is standing, shaking his head.

Tony beams. "Honeysuckle! How nice of you to rescue me from these meany kidnappers." He pouts, and Rhodey chuckles wryly.

"Well, you and JARVIS did most of the work. All I had to do was stroll in, unopposed, I might add, and untie you." Rhodey strides forward and starts untying Tony's bonds. "Really, Tony," He says from where he is bent over, untying one of Tony's legs. "You've got to stop doing this. I'm your liaison to the military, not your bodyguard. Shouldn't Happy be doing this?"

"It's not my fault that I'm a super-celebrity genius that idiots try to kidnap! And didn't you hear? Happy's been promoted to my driver, and anyways, he's in Oregon, visiting his family." Rhodey unties his hands, and Tony rubs his aching wrists as he stands. "So who else besides my best friend is supposed to rescue me?"

The Alpha rolls his eyes, and Tony grins. "Now, come on, we'd better get going before Slick comes back."

Rhodey looks confused, but he follows Tony out of the room and down the hall.

-_-_-_-_-_

"Pepppppperrrrr." Tony drags her name out. He's lying upside down on the couch in his lab, his head hanging off the front and his legs hooked over the back.

"Tony." She replies, arching an eyebrow.

"PEEEEEEEPPPERRRRRR." Tony whines, and Pepper sighs.

"I'm not leaving until you sign all these, so you might get it over with." She sets down a file-folder absolutely bursting with papers on one of his lab tables.

With an unintelligible grumble, Tony swings his legs down and sits up, pausing for a second to avoid head-rush, before standing up and shuffling over to her. He flops down ungracefully onto a lab stool and drags the stack of paper over to himself.

As he begins signing papers, Pepper consults her clipboard. "You have a press conference tomorrow at 11, and Obie would like me to tell you that the Jericho prototype had better be done by tomorrow night. Also," Pepper flips through a couple of pages, "You'd better have a batch of suppressants ready to go, because your heat is in a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, yeah." Tony nods distractedly, focused on signing the papers. "Jarvis, you got all that?"

"Indeed, sir." JARVIS replies, and Pepper rolls her eyes.

"What's the point of you requesting me as a personal assistant if you're just going to ignore me and have JARVIS remember everything for you?" She asks, sounding slightly put-off.

Tony pauses in the stack of paperwork, looking up at her. "Pepper, you are irreplaceable! Sure, JARVIS might be great, but he can't drag me from the lab after I've barricaded myself inside for the past week. He can't bring me food from that awesome Italian place that refuses to do takeout. He can't tuck the blanket in around me when I fall asleep on the couch."

"Oh, I see." Pepper raises an eyebrow. "You don't need a PA; You need a Nanny."

Tony gapes at her, then puts a hand to his chest, mock-offended. "You wound me, Pepper, truly! I thought we were having a moment there!"

"I know that I, for one, was nearly brought to tears by such display of affection." JARVIS says dryly, then adds belatedly, "Sir."

"Why is it that everyone around me as suddenly turned so mean and sarcastic?" Tony pouts, folding his arms across his chest.

"We get it from you, you know." Pepper informs him as she gathers up the papers again.

Tony has just opened his mouth to protest when JARVIS says, "I wouldn't say that," "Thank you, JARVIS, see, _he_ appreciates-" "Which is why I'm glad that Miss Potts did." JARVIS cuts him off to continue.

Tony stares at the ceiling, jaw hanging open, and then at Pepper, who's covering her mouth but not quite covering her smile. He throws his hands up in defeat. "Okay, fine, I give up. You obviously have me outnumbered and out-maneuvered."

Pepper laughs now, a bright, clear sound that makes Tony's heart pound. "Don't pout. You know it's true."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever. How 'bout you just run back to Happy and leave me alone, huh?" Tony says grumpily, turning away to fiddle with something on another table.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Tony." Pepper says, sounding fondly amused. Tony hears the click of her heels as she leaves, and he watches her out of the corner of his eye.

Maybe, someday, in another life, something could have become of them. But Pepper has a Beta of her own, and though, rarely, Tony wished that he had never introduced Pepper and Happy, they made each other happy, and Tony wouldn't dream of taking that away from them.

-_-_-_-_-_

"I'm trusting you on this one, Tony." Obie's hand is heavy and oppressive on his shoulder, and Tony doesn't resist the urge to shake it off. Obie's eyes narrow at him for a second, but Tony ignores it. That doesn't even register on the radar of his insubordination, so he doesn't see why it should bother Obie. Obie's continuing, now, "As you know, I'll be in New York for a board meeting, but I know that nobody can do a better live demonstration of The Jericho better than you."

"Yeah, sure, I got this." Tony says dismissively.

"Alright," Obie grins, a slightly unsettling thing that Tony doesn't believe he's seen before; the smile seems to have layers of something entirely different than happiness. He shakes off his uneasiness as Obie starts to walk back towards the door. "And don't miss your flight! I really need you at this thing!"

"Sure thing, Obie." Tony calls back, rolling his eyes, before turning back to his project. As if he'd miss his flight.

-_-_-_-_-_

Later, he'll wish that he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ending of this particular segment of "Darkness."
> 
> The next installment, Illumination, which is really just a short interlude of Steve's backstory before we return to Tony, will be posted sometime before the end of this month.
> 
> Thank you all so much for putting up with my long absences and rare updates, and I look forward to seeing you in the next fic!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome.


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